


Help

by warsfeil



Category: 07-Ghost
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Labrador thinks that Castor needs some help in the area of sexual help. He's not wrong. Includes root bondage and topping from the bottom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Help

It wasn't that Castor was a virgin, exactly. It's just that he _was_. He couldn't say whether it was from lack of opportunity or lack of interest, in all honesty, but the fact remained that he wasn't terrible experienced in anything sexual. He knew the mechanics, he understood how it worked and he could have talked about it with a perfectly straight face if he hadn't ever had to discuss it in relationship with himself. 

He'd spent some time thinking about it. His father hadn't been the sort to allow him on any superfluous social adventures, so Castor had never had women or men pushing themselves at him the way he might have if he had been the Oak heir, instead. He'd never had close friends, never made close ties, and even when the stirrings of puberty first called to him, it was enough to satisfy himself or have vague dreams of hands on him that belonged to no one in particular. When he had become a ghost, he had simply assumed that it was how things were done. After all, he was a bishop now. He was hardly meant to go gallivanting around, having sex and hitting on women like he was someone as crass as Frau. And then Labrador had happened.

Labrador, who had laughed and pressed up against Castor at the exact wrong (right?) moment, when Castor was still only half-awake and he could still feel the ghosts of dream hands on his body, making his skin tingle. Labrador had pressed his hands there, instead, and Castor was fairly certain that even if body heat wasn't such an issue for ghosts Castor would have been drawn to the warmth of his hands and his body. 

It was rare that Castor had to revise his opinions on things, and rarer still that he was outright wrong, but on the matter of sex, it seemed he had no little amount of revision to do. Labrador was considerably more experienced than Castor, if the prior night was anything to judge by, and Castor wasn't used to being so far out of his depth. 

Which saw Castor up at half past midnight, long after even Frau had given up and gone to bed. After the third book that he'd opened had contained one of Frau's porn magazines, Castor was torn between wanting to strangle the blond and having to appreciate the irony of a porn magazine being hidden inside a book entitled "The Sexual Health of the Healthy Man". It seemed to be as redundant as the title, at any rate, but neither the book nor the magazine was what Castor was looking for. 

He let out a quiet sigh, picking up his mug and frowning when he realized it had gone empty some time ago. It was late enough that he didn't think it would be wise to traipse down to make anything else to drink, but he felt even more uneducated than he had when he started. 

"Castor?"

Castor looked up to see the person he least (most?) wanted to see at that particular moment. Labrador padded in as softly as he always did, and even though Castor wasn't terribly prone to spontaneous acts of poetry — it wasn't like he was Lance — he couldn't help but feel there was some sort of comparison to flowers to be made there. 

Labrador looked at him and looked amused, more than anything, in that way that only Labrador could manage. His smile was easy, and Castor was never quite sure how Labrador could always smile so easily and so honestly and still be so surprisingly cold, when he needed to be.

"Good evening, Labrador," Castor offered. He hoped his smile was convincing, and he hope that Frau's damned magazine wasn't showing around the edge of the book. He shifted a little, surreptitiously adjusting the books so that the spines were facing the wall and at an angle that would make it hard for Labrador to read the titles.

"Good morning would be more accurate," Labrador said, and it was as much amusement as it was a gentle admonishment. Castor thought it was somewhat silly, coming from Labrador, who took naps and overslept on a regular basis, but he supposed that sleeping too much was somewhat preferable to sleeping too little. At least they weren't like Frau, who stayed up far too late and slept in far too long and somehow managed to obtain the worst of both worlds. "Why are you still up?"

"There was some reading that I wanted to do." It was an evasive answer, and Castor knew instantly that Labrador had seen through it when Labrador raised both his eyebrows for a brief second, looking as though he was amused as some private joke. 

"Did you find out what you were looking for?" Labrador asked. There were limited reasons that Castor would be reading so late, and Castor knew that Labrador knew him better than most people would expect. Of course, there was also the fact that even Frau would have been able to see through him, with as transparent as Castor was being.

Castor considered his potential answers for a moment, drumming his fingers on the stack of books and trying very hard not to get lost in Labrador's eyes. He wasn't willing to look even more evasive by breaking eye contact, but looking at Labrador like that just made Castor remember what they looked like when they were half-lidded, with that rosy blush on Labrador's cheeks and his mouth half-open and his hand wrapped around Castor's cock. 

His stomach seized at the thought, a tight, sudden feeling of heat that shot down and made him shift again. It was a feeling he still wasn't used to. It was completely unlike what he'd feel when he was alone, and he wasn't used to it at all, but it wasn't — it wasn't _bad_. Castor was suddenly grateful that he had years of practice in making certain that he didn't blush easily. He didn't want to make it anymore obvious than it already was to Labrador what he was thinking about. 

"Not to the extent that I was hoping," Castor said, finally, grateful that he still had control over his voice and could let it be as easy and cool as it ever was. Like he was talking about researching something mundane instead of sex. 

Labrador reached out for one of the books, and Castor jerked before he could stop himself, setting a protective hand onto the pile to make sure that Labrador couldn't take them. He cursed himself inwardly as soon as he realized what he'd done, too late to stop the movement or decide not to go through with it. Labrador dropped his hand back to his side, and Castor's stomach gave another dangerous wave of heat at the mischievous smile on Labrador's face. Castor was starting to be able to identify the feeling as desire, and he was unaccustomed to it being anywhere near that strong. 

"Is it not something that I can help with?" Labrador asked. His tone was light, almost a little hurt, but Castor saw right through it. He could tell when he was being toyed with, and being on the receiving end of such treatment was -- was -- _arousing_. Or maybe that was just from being in such close proximity as Labrador. It was hard to tell. It certainly hadn't been like that yesterday or any of the days before, but now Castor felt that all the previous nights had been wasted, and that all the times he'd satisfied his hormones with his hands or with a shower were more lackluster than he had ever imagined. 

Castor considered keeping up the act. He considered keeping up with Labrador's easy prying, considered fencing with words and smiles for a goal that he was still unsure on. He knew he wanted it, though, and that meant that all the careful conversation in the world was little more than procrastination. Castor didn't think much of procrastination, and so he met Labrador's eyes and cleared the nervousness out of his voice.

"It's something you can help with," he said, and it was still vague, of course, it was still something that could have been interpreted a thousand different ways, but there was only one way that it had been meant. Castor knew that the weight of the words he hadn't said was heavy in the air, and Labrador's smile quirked up into something that was almost predatory, for a few seconds. Castor's stomach tightened, and he could read the message back, written as clear as text on a book across Labrador's body language: challenge accepted.

Smiling as he straightened, Labrador took a step backwards, giving Castor more personal space than he knew what to do with at the moment. More than he wanted, at the moment. Now that he'd committed himself to the idea of this, to falling in bed with Labrador again, he could hardly stand the wait.

"Would you like to talk about it somewhere more private?" Labrador asked, and there was laughter dancing through his eyes. Castor didn't know whether he should feel embarrassed or indignant, so he settled instead on simply trying to make the nerves in his stomach calm down and stop reacting as though everything Labrador said was another switch to turn Castor on. 

Unsure of whether or not he trusted his own voice, Castor instead opted to simply offer a smile and a nod as he gathered up his books. He suddenly regretted not having taken the books to his room to begin with. When he'd sat down, hours ago, he had thought that it would only be a few minutes he'd spending on studying, a brief period of time before he would go back, refill his mug and be able to put the books away. He hadn't anticipated sitting down as long as he had, shifting to make sure that no one who passed could see the text of the books. It had been easier, with how few people were up so late and that his back was facing the wall... but if Labrador was going to _help_ him then they would need considerably more privacy. 

Halfway down the halls, Castor realized that they were going to Labrador's rooms and not his own. That put him even further out of his comfort zone. Last time, it had been in his room, in his own bed, in a place he knew well. He hadn't planned on it, and he still wasn't certain how it had happened, but it had happened so quickly he hadn't had nearly as much time to think about it.

Labrador's room was on the ground floor, facing out to the gardens. Castor had been there before, of course, but never under circumstances that were so... well, unusual wasn't a fair term for it, was it? So sexual, if Castor was honest and stopped dancing around the term. It brought heat to his face for a split second before the heat plunged down, and Castor was grateful that Labrador had his back turned. When they arrived at the room, Labrador ushered him inside with a gesture, and Castor followed automatically, setting his books down on Labrador's table. As he was straightening back up, he heard the tell-tale shuffle of shifting clothing, and when he looked up Labrador had already cast the more extraneous parts of the bishop uniform. Castor froze for a second before he finished straightening, eyes dropping to look Labrador up and down in the new light. He'd seen Labrador naked before. In the shower, when he was changing — but it was always something that was meant to be apologized for; an intrusion on privacy. It wasn't like this.

Labrador was as thin as ever in the clothes, built light and delicate in a way that betrayed the power he held as Profe. The form-fitting undergarments of the bishop uniform clung to his form instead of hiding it with layers of bulky cloth, and Castor's breath stuck in his throat. It came out as a harsh exhalation when he looked back up to Labrador's eyes, bright in the way that they so rarely were. There wasn't any sleep clouding them, no gentle smiles and words of reassurance. 

"You should take your clothing off," Labrador said, and even though he phrased it as a mild request, Castor heard the edge of a command there. His hands lifted, hesitated, and then started undoing his own robes, trying to pretend that he was alone, that he was in his room, that there was nothing he needed to be embarrassed about. He considered stopping and matching Labrador's own state of undress, but that seemed like it would just draw things out further than he needed. He started to shrug out of his shirt and stopped dead when Labrador stepped over, abruptly in his space.

"Ah—" Castor started, voice starting before his mind had caught up and decided what to protest. Labrador reached out, the smile still on his face, and Castor became certain that he'd never again be able to think of it as anything but a mischievous smile. He took Castor's glasses off, careful not to let them catch on his hair or his ears, moving them down and leaning over to place them on the table. Castor followed the movement with his eyes, automatically straining to focus properly despite it being a futile struggle. They were just out of reach for Castor. He could have stepped over to take them, but that meant stepping away from Labrador. He looked back, and Labrador tilted his head, the smile doubling in size. At least he could see Labrador, though he wasn't certain that would save him.

"I didn't want them to get caught on your shirt," Labrador explained. "So I thought I would help." Then Labrador's hands went to Castor's hips and started pulling the undershirt up. Castor automatically lifted his arms, briefly reflecting that perhaps he had done something wrong, that Labrador would abruptly change from wanting Castor to get undressed to doing it himself — but then his shirt was off and Labrador was pressing against him to kiss him, and Castor suddenly found that he didn't care either way.

He let out a quiet, startled noise and felt Labrador smile around it. Labrador moved his hands, one sliding up to press on Castor's chest and the other one lifting to rest on the back of his neck. Labrador was steering them, pressing forward while his teeth found Castor's lips and dragged across. It was funny, in a way, that the bishop that looked the most gentle was so demanding, Castor thought. Labrador nipped, and Castor automatically opened his mouth. To make a noise, maybe, but the result was much different, as Labrador just pressed closer, letting his tongue slip in to Castor's mouth and prove his own experience. 

The back of Castor's legs hit the edge of Labrador's bed and he attempted to steady himself. His hand went down to grip the bed frame and he sat, instead, expecting Labrador to pull back or to tell him what to do next — something other than simply step forward and straddle Castor's lap, letting out a hot exhalation and a contented noise into the kiss. Castor's hands went up immediately, holding onto Labrador. If he held on enough, if he held on right (wrong?) maybe he would glean some understanding of how this was supposed to go. 

Instead, Labrador just smiled, arching slightly into the Castor's hands on his back. Castor was suddenly acutely aware that Labrador was still wearing his shirt, that the cotton was rubbing against Castor's bare chest, and Castor let his hands drop down to the hem of the shirt to start removing it. Labrador appeared to disagree, reaching down to snag Castor's hands in his own, wrapping his fingers around his wrists and then pressing forward. Labrador's weight on Castor's own, without his arms to help balance them, sent Castor careening down to lie on the bed. He wasn't nearly as surprised as he could have been when Labrador simply leaned up to press Castor's crossed wrists into the pillows above his head. 

"Keep them there," Labrador said, and that time it _was_ a command, and Castor had absolutely no intention of disobeying. All the rules and answers that he'd found in the books, Labrador was ignoring as though he'd never even heard of them. Labrador took his time, leaning down to trail kisses down Castor's neck that were as soft as the caress of his hair across Castor's skin. He kissed a path down Castor's collarbone and nudged Castor's chin up to press a careful nip to the sensitive skin on the underside of Castor's chin. Castor shuddered, breath catching in his throat for a second before he managed to catch it and release it. Labrador smiled against him.

Then Labrador's mouth was going further down, and every kiss took longer, lips pressing against Castor's skin and leaving a line of slightly pinkened circles down past his collarbones. This was different than everything else Castor had experienced. Different than his hand, of course, he'd never tried to touch his own body in the ways that would emulate the touch of a lover. Different than the night previous, too, where Labrador had been quick and deft, making sure that Castor didn't have time to try and protest. Castor was glad that he hadn't, in retrospect. The protests had been there, but then so had Labrador's hands, and the protests had turned then into little noises Castor tried to keep contained. 

Now, though, Labrador was giving him time. It was a slow-build, this time, Labrador's hands skipping across Castor's stomach and making him shake. With every bite, with every mark, Castor's hands twitched, fingers splaying as he considered what the punishment for moving them would be. Then Labrador wrapped his mouth around Castor's nipple and all thoughts of disobeying anything Labrador had said were drowned out by pleasure. The books had said that nipples were an erogenous zone on men, but Castor hadn't quite believed them, not until it felt like electricity was shooting straight to his groin when Labrador's teeth gently pulled at the nub. 

"Lab—" Castor started, the name breaking off after the first syllable. He wasn't sure if it was a plea for more or for less, but Labrador seemed pleased with it either way. He flicked his tongue across the nipple again before sliding further down, a bite being carefully applied to each rib on the way down. It was a little thing, but it was serving to drive Castor insane, the feeling of wanting more contrasting with the brief spark of almost-pain that happened with every bite.

Something cold slid across Castor's wrists, and he jerked, looking up to see that there were flowers shooting up around the bed, vines entangling his wrists and holding them in place. Ah. Castor couldn't help the sudden tension in his arms at the restraints. He tested the bonds, moving his wrists as much as he could, and they gave way a little. Enough to be comfortable. Hardly enough to escape. Labrador dragged his legs down Castor's thighs, dipping back up to drag his hands over the pants that still clung around Castor's erection.

Castor gasped, bucking his hips up without a conscious thought to the matter. It felt criminally good — considerably more good than it should have, with his hands restrained and him spread out without any ability to stop or guide Labrador. He knew that he trusted Labrador, he knew that Labrador wouldn't do anything too much or too fast or too wrong, but trust was different when you were tied down onto a bed with someone's calloused hands catching the fabric of your pants. 

"Mm, I think these will need to come off, too," Labrador said. He slipped his fingers underneath the waistband to stroke the skin. Castor lifted his hips to help the removal of his pants, wanting nothing more than to keep feeling Labrador's touch, and Labrador laughed, removing his hands. Castor let out a harsh exhalation, wanting more of Labrador's hands and more of his touch. He leaned down to press his mouth against the tent of Castor's pants and Castor shuddered, then shuddered harder again when Labrador sucked hard at the material, hard enough that Castor's cock twitched desperately underneath it all. 

"Please—" Castor said before he really processed that he was begging, the words breathless and automatic as he shifted his hips from side to side, trying not to arch up too obviously into every touch that Labrador gave. It was, again, the right thing to do, apparently, because Labrador looked up at Castor and smiled a smile that would have made Castor terrified if he didn't trust him so much. It still sparked a small feeling of desperation and nerves in his stomach that only added to everything he was feeling.

Labrador undid the button to Castor's pants and slid them down, Castor lifting to facilitate the removal as quickly as possible. His underwear went with it, and he was left naked, shaking slightly, body shifting under its own need and under Labrador's gaze. He looked _hungry_ , Castor realized, and he barely had time to think about what that could mean before Labrador was back down, licking a hot trail up the inside of Castor's thigh. Castor's hands clenched, fingers balling into fists as he used all his willpower not to jerk, not to shift into everything that Labrador did. 

A hand placed safely on each of Castor's hips, Labrador finally moved to Castor's cock, flicking his tongue over the tip. Castor wasn't sure whether it had been a scream or a moan that he let out, hips jerking against Labrador's hands and being unable to get any additional contact. 

"Lab— Lab, please—" 

Labrador wrapped his lips firmly around Castor's cock, sliding down and creating warm— _hot_ suction that made Castor moan long and hard in response. If that was what begging got in return, then Castor would beg as much as Labrador wanted, scraping his nails over his palms as he moved helplessly into every touch Labrador gave. He was aware enough to hear the quiet, needy gasps that he kept letting out, but he couldn't have done a thing to stop them. Labrador seemed to appreciate them, with the way he dragged his nails down Castor's sides just enough to leave light pink trails, let out a quiet moan of his own that vibrated through Castor's cock and made him want to stop breathing with how good it felt.

Castor hung there, caught in the middle of intense pleasure, the desire for more and the same desire for it not to end conflicting in his chest with every writhe he gave on the bed. He let out another gasp and then suddenly Labrador was pulling away, the air cold on Castor's cock and colder with how it had been warm a moment ago. After all of this, Castor was going to drag Labrador into the hottest bath he could find until they'd both warmed up again— something he thought Labrador must have done to begin with, to be as warm as he was with his ghost body.

"Labrador," Castor said, managing all three syllables in the absence of the mind-rending pleasure that had previously been there. Labrador smiled, leaned up and brushed a kiss across Castor's lips that had the faint taste of salt and mild musk. Castor could add that to the list of things he'd never before had the inclination to know. 

"Shh," Labrador said, a quiet whisper that barely overpowered Castor's loud breathing. "Just wait."

Labrador leaned up, slowly pulling his shirt off. Castor's fingers twitched with the desire to touch him, with the overwhelming need to be stroking down the ivory expanse of Labrador's chest, but Labrador only kept smiling. His pants went next, lifting up onto his knees to push them down and then casting them off with a careless kick of each leg. The clothing had been form-fitting, but even so, seeing Labrador naked was stunning. He was nothing but cream skin and smooth lines, down to his cock, and Castor had to let his head fall back onto the pillows, eyes closed, before he could handle anything else. 

A quiet moan made him look up again. Labrador — _oh_. Labrador had one hand behind him, one hand trailing along his own cock as teasingly as he'd touched Castor, and it only took a second for Castor to realize what that other hand was doing. Castor hadn't realized that things were going to go that direction, but the thought went straight down and made his own cock throb. It seemed that was going to be another discovery that Castor had never known he'd needed: he'd never known he wanted to be buried inside of Labrador.

He wanted to be the one preparing him, too. There was a light, fragrant scent in the room, and Castor imagine it was from whatever Labrador was using as lubricant. If his hands weren't restrained, he would have surged forward, grabbed onto Labrador and kissed him and used his _own_ hands— and then Castor realized he was pulled taught against his bonds, lifting as far up as he could and he must have looked as hungry as Labrador had earlier, given the satisfied look on Labrador's face. Castor started to flush for a brief second, and Labrador laughed again, the sound trailing off as his breath hitched and his eyes fluttered. 

Castor let his torso fall back against the bed again, eyes still drawn to Labrador like a moth to a flame. "Labrador..."

"Mm, you should be more patient," Labrador said, and it was a mild chastisement. Castor could hardly bear the thought of waiting all the same, a shudder going through him as he stared at Labrador as the small man shifted. It seemed like an eternity before Labrador moved his hand again, reached down and grabbed Castor's cock. An eternity of Castor biting his lip and imagining that he was biting Labrador's; an eternity of Labrador making small, breathy noises and an eternity of Castor half-wishing that he'd never agreed to go to bed with Labrador to begin with (while simultaneously never wanting to leave the bed if it meant more of this torture). 

Labrador slid his hand down Castor's cock and held it carefully against Castor's shudder, against Castor's automatic buck and moan because as alert as he was, any contact felt amazing. Labrador positioned himself carefully, and Castor stopped breathing for a second, air caught in his lungs and trapped for so long he thought his chest might burst as Labrador slid down onto Castor's cock. Labrador's body went taut as he moved down, grasping onto Castor's hips. For a few seconds, Castor saw Labrador completely unrestrained, nails digging into Castor's skin as Labrador's own hips twitched, settling down until Castor was within him. Castor, for his part, barely managed to do much but stay still, shaking with quiet tremors with the exertion.

"Now," Labrador said, quietly, and his voice was thick with his own pleasure. "Move with me." 

It took a second for the command to register, for Castor to properly understand what Labrador was asking of him. It took until Labrador lifted himself up, pushing against Castor's chest for leverage only to come back down hard and let out a moan that nearly undid Castor. Labrador's cheeks were flushed with blood that should hardly be pumping through his veins and Castor moved up into him, moved up in with the thrusts he could manage, tied down as he was, with a desperation fueled by wanting to see more of this side of Labrador. There was the quiet knowledge that Castor wasn't the one to do this to Labrador; Labrador was the one to do this to _Castor_ , to himself, and while a part of Castor was perfectly content with that, a larger part of Castor wanted to push Labrador down for their next meeting and make him lose himself like Castor was losing himself. 

"Mmm," Labrador moaned, the sound falling out as a hum as he rocked against Castor, and Castor couldn't help but respond with a noise of his own. He was going to have marks around his wrists from straining against the vines, at this point, the desire to touch Labrador and hold him repeatedly overpowering his common sense informing him that it wasn't happening anytime soon.

"Lab," Castor said, repeating the name like it would save him (or damn him). "Lab. _Lab_." 

Labrador answered with a longer moan, deep and throaty and appreciative as his hand worked his own cock in counterpoint to the thrusts. There was a hint of desperation to Labrador's voice, finally starting to match Castor's own, as the pace of their hips moved up to something considerably more frenetic, much less controlled. Labrador slipped forward, doubling over slightly as he panted, moving hard against Castor and letting his head bow down until Castor could feel his every breath.

It undid him. " _Labrador_ ," Castor managed, and it sounded surprised even to his own ears, orgasm catching him by surprise and racking through him. It was good — it was amazing, better than the night previous and better than any night he'd spent with his own hand. The name turned into a moan, wordless and desperate and pleased as Castor felt every muscle in his body go tight and relax again. He wasn't aware that he'd closed his eyes until he opened them again, the thrums of the afterglow starting to settle in and send quiet shocks that tingled through his skin. 

Labrador had come, too, which Castor realized only belatedly, only from the stickiness between their chests where Labrador had fallen. There was a surge of disappointment that Castor hadn't gotten to watch Labrador's face when it had happened, and Castor pushed it deftly aside with the quiet promise that next time (or perhaps the time after that) he would do so. He would take full advantage and make sure that he came after Labrador; that he was the one to make Labrador come in the first place. He'd enjoyed being ridden, enjoyed absolutely everything about the encounter, but it gave him a hunger for more that he didn't think he'd be able to contain forever.

Labrador made a sleepy, contented noise, slowly sliding off of Castor until he was resting next to him, instead. He shivered a little when Castor's cock slid out of his ass, and Castor realized after a few seconds that the vines had retracted themselves, leaving his wrists free. He flexed his shoulders, the muscles slightly sore from being in one position and tense for so long, and then wrapped an arm around Labrador. That was how you were meant to do it, right? Cuddling in the afterglow? Given the way Labrador nuzzled in, Castor thought he might have gotten it right.

"Mm," Labrador murmured, voice heavy with sleep as he looked up to Castor with half-lidded eyes, contentment on his face like the cat that had gotten the canary. "Did I help you find what you were looking for?"

Castor considered his options for responses for a moment, then leaned down to kiss Labrador first, long and appreciative and filled with all the thanks he couldn't say out loud. 

"It seems that now I have even more things to look for," he said, instead, and he knew Labrador understood from the smile on his face. 

"I'll help you find those, too," Labrador promised, pulling the sheets up over the both of them and pressing his face into Castor's neck as he drifted off.


End file.
